


Burn out

by R_B_Bloom



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Daddy Issues, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, JJ (Outer Banks) Needs a Hug, Just a shit ton of sadness, Like a fucking massive one, Mental Instability, Mommy Issues, Past Domestic Violence, Post-Season/Series 01, Recreational Drug Use, Sad Ending, Swearing, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, this whole fanfiction is a cry for help.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_B_Bloom/pseuds/R_B_Bloom
Summary: “See that, you little shit” Luke had drunkenly slurred to 7-year-old JJ, gesturing towards the fire “that’s how your life’s gonna be. No matter how much you try and change, no matter how far you run, your bound to burn out eventually”or, a darker take on how JJ handles trauma post season one finale
Relationships: JJ/Depression, JJ/Instability
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Burn out

**Author's Note:**

> Good evening everyone. Or, is it morning? I'm not really sure, it's 12:00 a.m, I don't feel tired in the slightest. Anyway, this piece is quite different, and definately a lot heavier and darker than my usual stories, but I'm actually a bit excited to post this. This one doesn't feature much, if any, JJ/John B friendship so it will not be a part of the brother in every way but blood series. In saying that, this piece is me trying to really expand my writing so feedback would be so so greatly appreciated. Due to my nerdy drama brain and some events that have occured on my own life, I am very intrigued with JJ's character and it was really cool creating this story as it allowed me to develop a bit more of a backstory for him, so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As I said prior to this, this piece is me attempting to broaden my writing abilities so my apologies if I don't have a realistic voice for JJ or if you find the story unsatisfying and confusing. With that being said, I truly do hope you enjoy!!

If anyone in the Outer Banks was asked to describe JJ Maybank, there’d be a few different answers. Some would say that JJ was a ticking time bomb, a loose cannon waiting to go off just like the long line of Maybank’s before him. Some would describe JJ as a mystery, the loud, obnoxious kid that somehow manages to disappear once someone tries to see past the superficial bullshit. More than a few people would describe JJ as a thieve, a kleptomaniac, his maniac energy and animated facial expressions distracting prying eyes from the subtle swipe of whatever merchandise he happened to be drawn to. JJ was well known throughout the island, for better or for worse. But almost no one but JJ himself would consider JJ a pyromaniac.

Well, technically speaking, JJ’s not a traditional pyromaniac. He doesn’t get some sort of hard-on when he watches shit burn, nor do flames and gasoline consume his every thought. The only thing JJ’s ever had the desire to burn is a joint. And the kook academy, sometimes. JJ can happily go through life without holding his lighter to anything. No, JJ is a metaphorical arsonist. Whether it’s blowing up at a teacher or fighting a group of kooks, JJ always seemed to have the desire to self-destruct, to explode. He doesn’t mean to do it, truly. He tries to listen to John B’s pleas of ‘dude, just let it go’, tries to ignore the voice in his head urging him to fuck shit up. He tries, so god damn hard, and, on a good day, he succeeds. The problem is, JJ Maybank doesn’t have many good days. There’s a fire burning in his eyes, deep within his soul, as he runs his mouth or swings his fist, with any reasoning or pleading only fuelling the flames. Heat spreads throughout his body as he loses control, not caring about consequences or punishment as long as he can satisfy the rage that burns deep within him. Then, just like that, the fire is gone, along with his desire to fight, the anger rapidly residing much like how flames die down after their initial moment of glory.

Metaphorically speaking, JJ’s parents were also pyromaniacs. His dad’s countless addictions and his mother’s emotional and physical abandonment torched his childhood hopes and dreams. Some people leave their kids money, or love, or anything of fucking use, but, as luck would have it, all JJ receives from his folks is a smouldering trail of trauma and distrust. Sometimes, JJ wondered what his life would have been like if his parents weren’t as fucked up. Would his childhood home be warm and happy, smelling of cheap candles and baked goods instead of bottom shelf vodka? Would the house be neat and clean, not littered with beer bottles and joint filters and JJ’s dried blood? What if JJ hadn’t been the kid his parents got? What if he was smarter, or more athletic? What if JJ was more like those kids his mother yelled at him to be like, actually fucking useful? If JJ wasn’t born, would his parents have been better off??

In a fairy-tale, JJ’s parents would have gotten their shit together and provided for the kid they chose to have. There’d be angst and crying before some big revelation that changes his parent’s whole perspective, with his mother and father rushing to apologize to JJ for all their wrong doings. His parents would draw him in for a fierce, loving embrace, promising to never hurt him again as the sun set behind them and the singing of the birds is carried to them via a light fucking evening breeze.

But, in reality, JJ’s parents were always bound to crash and burn.

Luke, plagued and haunted by the words of his own parents, turned to alcohol and opioids, because it was easier to get fucked up on the feelings he had rather than accept them. Daniella was a lost soul, showing up on the shores of the OBX with some daddy issues and a pack of Marlboro reds. With her mum too invested in her work to raise a child, Daniella was left to run wild. She partied until her limbs got heavy and until she could no longer see through the haze of cigarette smoke, tears mixing with the cheap glitter that once resided upon her porcelain skin. Unsurprisingly, Luke and Daniella met while shitfaced. They spotted each other from across the room, making momentary eye contact in a crowd of plastered, troubled teens. They pushed their flushed bodies together, sweat glistening off their skin as they danced beneath the strobe lights. The rest of the night was a blur of tequila and weed, of drunken kisses, wandering hands and flickering streetlights. They could blame that night all on the alcohol, on drunken stupidity. Truth be told, they were intoxicated. Superficially, by countless hard liquors, but underneath the booze and the drugs and the cigarettes, they were drunk off each other.

Someone had once told JJ that your vibe attracted your tribe. Usually, JJ would never give one of those cheesy, bullshit Pinterest quotes a second thought, but that one had some solid ground. Some people’s parents fall in love as a result of years of friendship and hidden desire, others because of a bond only ever created through trauma or tough times. But, JJ’s parents fell in love for a different reason. Like a moth to light, JJ knew his parents were drawn together because they were just as broken as each other. Lucky fucking him. They shared the same trauma, the same pain. They understood loss and abandonment, the feeling of never being able to trust while living with the burning desire to be loved. They craved the feeling of being wanted, a sensation that their respective parents never bothered to satisfy. Their relationship was like mixing sodium and water, some sort of fucked up Romeo and Juliet. They shouldn’t have been together. They were irreversibly damaged, their lost, traumatised souls dangerously similar. They were toxic for each other, while simultaneously intoxicated by each other. Their relationship was like setting fire to a gasoline-soaked piece of string. Which, spoiler alert, JJ was on the receiving end of.

Realistically, JJ shouldn’t be surprised that he turned out the way he did. He remembered that whole nature vs nurture debate his freshmen science class had, knew that since he grew up in a poor, abusive household with limited exposure to positive emotions, the odds, and the system, were against him. His parents and their ways fucked JJ up indefinitely, his chances of a normal, stable life incinerated the day his parents decided they would raise JJ themselves. JJ had grown up around fire, in one way or another. One of his first memories was sitting at his father’s feet, babbling whatever bullshit his toddler brain came up with as his father ignored him in favour of lighting up a joint. The flicker of the flame had intrigued JJ, and Luke, just wanting to keep him quiet, chucked the lighter at JJ’s feet, grumbling that JJ could play with it if he’d shut up. His mother would put out her cigarette’s on JJ if he cried too loud or made a fuss about being fed, cussing him out for being “such a fucking child,” (He ~~is~~ WAS a child). He watched out his bedroom window as his Luke and his smuggler friends gathered around a large fire on a cold November night, the smell of weed and rum heavy in the air as they counted the profit from their latest job. He remembered the bonfire him and Luke had after his mum had left, burning her remaining belongings in the fire pit.

“See that, you little shit” Luke had drunkenly slurred to 7-year-old JJ, gesturing towards the fire “that’s how your life’s gonna be. No matter how much you try and change, no matter how far you run, your bound to burn out eventually”

It’s funny, really. When Luke first said that to him, he’d been completely tuned out. He had learnt early on that Luke had nothing but insults and belittling slurs dancing on the tip of his tongue whenever he addressed JJ, so he’d become accustomed to tuning out Luke’s words whenever they were directed towards him. He’d nod at the right times, say ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’ when he had to, but he never truly processed anything his dad told him. The truth and undeniable relevance of what his dad had said to him at the bonfire that night didn’t hit him until 10 years down the track, when his insides were painted with liquor and countless pills and his heart was heavy with sorrow. The fire within JJ only continued to flare up more and more the older he got, peaking in the aftermathh of John B’s death. Although John B could never stop the fire blazing within JJ’s restless, damaged soul, his presence helped lessen it. John B gave him a home, a family, a reason to keep the fire maintained. But, with John B gone and Pope and Kiara growing more and more distant from him every day, JJ’s got nothing to lose. So, he lets the fire rage.

His knuckles seem to be permanently painted with bruises, both old and new, as he punches anyone that glances at him the wrong way, the fire within him burning bright as he hears the sound of bones snapping and cracking under his fists. His blood is more liquor then plasma at this point, the burn of tequila travelling down his throat less painful than his loss. JJ inhales anything he can. Weed, cigarettes, he’s even followed in the footsteps of his old man and snorted a few lines of cocaine. JJ knows it would be more productive and beneficial to deal with his pain, but numbing himself is easier. And he’s tired. He’s so fucking tired. He’s fucking tired of the crying or screaming or hyperventilating. He’s fucking tired of missing John B, putting in the effort with Pope and Kie and getting nothing in return. He’s tired of trying to ignore the little voice in his head telling him to wreak havoc, so he listens to it instead. JJ already feels like he can’t breathe, so what’s the fucking harm in drowning himself in drugs and booze.

He'd been hanging out with different people as well, kids from the very depths of the cut. To everyone else, they’re low life drug dealers and alcoholics, dropouts that will eventually leach off government assistance programs because they were too lazy to finish school. But in the face of John B’s death, those screw ups were the only people JJ could relate too. John B got it, to a certain extent. He knew what it was like to grow up without a mum, have a dad ignore and neglect your physical and emotional needs. He loved Pope and Kie with all his heart, but they just didn’t get it. They had loving, non-violent parents, a clean home with food. They’d bitch about how strict or unfair their parents were, and JJ would swallow down his bitterness because they had no fucking idea how lucky they were. John B left, and so did his last link to anyone in his life that could understand. So, he resorted to hanging around with the kids just as damaged as him. The one’s that came from broken homes and couldn’t do all the mushy emotional crap. The one’s that understood JJ’s need to self-destruct, because that’s the only way kids like them were shown to deal with life’s bullshit. JJ knew it was toxic. He knew that the friendships he’s developed with these kids were shallow and superficial. He couldn’t rely on them, or love them, or trust them, like he could with the pogues. He knew that they all enabled each other’s shitty behaviours, taking turns in providing the alcohol or the drugs or the smokes. They fight kooks and steal from stores to feel a fleeting second of joy before returning to the abandoned drive-in movie theatre they all hang out in to drink to their success, because the prospect of feeling something after the thrill is far too confronting.

JJ had always been a sucker for the underdog. The character who had all the odds stacked against them, yet still managed to redeem themselves and come out successful on the other side. They were always JJ’s favourite part of the movies he watched on John B’s shitty TV growing up. Knowing that someone who had faced all these challenges and hardships could end up getting everything they ever desired gave JJ hope. Maybe, despite the shitty hand he’d been dealt in life, he’d turn out ok. He’d escape his dad’s abuse and go to live with John B officially, falling in love with a ridiculously stunning girl that he won over with his charm and wits. She would love and accept his many flaws, helping him heal and rebuild himself. They’d travel the world, maybe get a few dogs, before settling down in a nice house in the Outer Banks, clinking their glasses together and share a loving, passionate kiss as they watched the sun set. JJ would sigh in content as he realised that he didn’t turn out like he thought he was destined to, and that the fire that had burned deep inside him for so long had finally died out.

His friends had always encouraged him to never listen to Luke’s words.

“Never listen to a person like you dad” John B had once told him “they’re always fucked up on too much shit to make any sense”

And most of the time, JJ agreed. He’d ensure his friends that Luke’s words were locked in the very deepest part of his mind, never to be thought of again. Maybe in a different world, billions of light years away from earth, JJ’s life was how he’d imaged it to be as a young child. Maybe he was the underdog who surpasses all the shit life’s thrown at him, coming out the other side ready to prove the universe wrong. But in this world, this cold-hearted, fucked up world, JJ Maybank feels broken beyond repair. JJ knows never to listen to his dad. He’s high and drunk off his ass on a good day, and JJ’s certain that all the drugs and booze had permanently fried the few braincells his dad had managed to keep.

JJ knew never to listen to his father. But he can’t help but think Luke was onto something the night of that bonfire.

Because maybe, just maybe, JJ’s always been destined to burn out.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and constructive criticism that I can apply to future fics and my writing style. Thank-you for reading, you are loved!! <3


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